Our second night in Pisac—I order a grilled chicken plate from my now-frequent haunt: one of the six-or-so market stalls that sell meals for around ten soles. I run into Emily and Cissy, who tell me people are dancing in the main plaza—the dancing women love them, and they’ve already been offered beer.
We get to the plaza where thirty to forty people are dancing in circles like in slow conga lines except no one is touching each other. They all seem to be locals, at the very least middle-aged, and they are moving their bodies in age-appropriate ways, scooping their arms in the air like they’re doing breaststroke as they tilt from side to side. Sometimes one gets in the middle of the circle and the rest copy their movements—Emily, Cissy and a few more classmates join a circle and follow along. I sit in a white plastic chair on the sidelines, choke on my very spicy food and try to ignore a very hungry dog attempting to make eye contact.
Eventually your guy gets in the mix. At first I feel awkward, but with each loop I become more comfortable until I’m not concerned about looking stupid. An older guy in another circle gives me a funny look of approval each time our circles meet—this exact look, with two thumbs up and a smirk:
I don’t understand why. Each time he does it I look around at my classmates as to ask: are you seeing this? But I don’t think they do. At some point a woman in New Age hippie attire enters the scene. She is wearing a black robe like this, but New Age hippified:
She dances alone just slightly apart from the main circles, not really making eye contact with anyone. She seems self-conscious and watching her I become self-conscious too. Soon a man in matching dress wanders onto the floor and joins her, which makes her distance less uncomfortable but not by a lot.
Watching this couple I thought were intruding upon the scene made me uncomfortable with my own position. It spoiled the moment a bit—I truly like to dance. When Julian said his famous words “I like to dance. I like to move my body” at our pre-departure meeting I thought “I like to dance and move my body too.” Except I didn’t say it out loud, because that would have been weird. Anyways, this particular dance made me suspect I am not so different from the New Age hippies. What exactly was the “scene” I felt they were interrupting? Is their presence really any more disruptive than mine? I don’t know. One thing’s for sure: the strange approval of that man means something, doesn’t it?
8 replies on “VI: “I like to move my body””
Hi Adam,
Your mention about presence and interruption really gave me something to think about! I feel like we all put ourselves into a third category besides locals and new-age tourists, and so its easy to think of ourselves as different than the tourists who are “interrupting” a scene with their presence. Like you mentioned, it really does make me think about how people might be seeing us, and if they might think that we’re interrupting (or simply annoying) in a similar way.
Totally! It’s important to consider where we fit into the picture, as well as what forces us to confront our presence or allows us to be blind to it.
Hey hey hey! Just because I was there I thought I might share some thoughts on the night. When the guy kept giving you the thumbs up and the wink each time our different circles went by each other I interpreted it as Peruvian machismo where he was congratulating you for being the only man with four young women. The two people with their trance like dances actually made me feel like I was much more of an active participant than them by actively engaging with the same dance patterns as the locals. However, I did become self-conscious about my positionality when the two Israeli guys joined our dance circle and they seemed obviously hesitant in their dancing despite integrating with the group (unlike the hippies). In that moment I became aware of how although I was moving my body like the Peruvians I was devoid of their same celebratory spirit. I was enjoying the dancing, but realized that I was not celebrating the anniversary of the market in the same way the locals were and I thus felt disjointed from the context and aware of my position as a vistor in Pisac.
Ana, I appreciate your thoughts so much. I think your analysis of the dancing situation is spot on. For anyone reading this, Ana’s got it right.
Hello Adam, the first man and my beloved roommate and friend. I am so happy to be quoted in one of your blogs. I wanted to build off Ana’s interpretation of that guy giving you winks and a thumbs up, which I think is super accurate; that recognition of “Peruvian machismo” has been expressed to me numerous times when I have been out and about with any of the girls in our group.
Yes babe, that Peruvian machismo is way too real.
Hi Adam,
You’re an incredible storyteller! Emily says I should comment on any blog post I read, so here I am. I really enjoyed reading your perspective of our night dancing in the square. I feel quite guilty for riding off to Moray the next morning instead of going to see the ladies at the market as promised. I had the same dilemma of “what makes me any different from the hippie tourists who attempted to join in on the festivities?”. I don’t even speak the language and I’m endlessly grateful that Ana was able to communicate with the kind ladies on our behalf. Thank you once again for this entertaining and insightful post, as always!
Take care,
Cissy
“At first I feel awkward, but with each loop I become more comfortable until I’m not concerned about looking stupid.” Speaking of encounters and disencounters, this would have been a great example in today’s class!